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Conversations with 
Walt Whitman 




SADAKICHI 



V 



V-4-. K 



Written in i8()4 



ft 



>'- 



PRICE, 



CENTS 




1895 
E. P. GOBY & CO., Publishers 

NEW YORK 



M 3 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1895 

By C. Sadakicei Hartmann 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C. 



Dedicated to 

Artist Thomas Eakins, 

OF PHI LA DEL PHI A , 

as an Adinirer of 

WALT WHITMAN, 

in kts own Native Independence, Swiplicity and Force ^ 

without Crajikiness and 

Subserviency. 



CONVERSATIONS WITH 

WALT WHITMAN 



F\URING my Philadelphia student days I dicovered 
^^ in the parlor of my relatives — plebeian, philistine 
grand uncle and aunt of mine; peace be with their souls! 
—a volume of poetry, I believe, the only one in the house 
and not remarkable at that, which lay there lonesome as 
if in state. It had been presented to them by their 
daughter, who had made a good match by marrying 
lumber, and in the eyes of the parents was equipped v/ith 
all those excellent qualities which a modern American 
lady should possess. The book was cherished accord- 
ingly; now and then the mother's hand glided caress- 
ingly over the gold embossed covers, but it was never 
read. It was an edition of Stoddard's poems. I perused 
them, recognized their worth, and laid them aside for 
ever. I did not know that indirectly through them, I 
should make the acquaintance of the most American 
intellectual individuality these States have hitherto pro- 
duced. It came about in the following way. 

At that period of life, like Ulrich von Hutten, I was 
more anxious about my spiritual than bodily welfare, 
and really abused my body to a shameful degree. I had 



4 Conversations with 

given up all regular work in order to study. How I sub- 
sisted then as at many subsequent periods, I really cannot 
tell. I enjoyed the humorous weekly allowance of three 
dollars, that went largely towards the purchase of 
second-hand books, for which purpose I rummaged for 
hours through all the different stores, and of course 
Ninth Street was also my favorite hunting ground. 

On one of these expeditions I entered a little store 
which hitherto had escaped my invasions. It looked as 
if it had never been swept, the dust lay a quarter of an 
inch thick on the shelves. The proprietor, dusty like 
his books, with a rich layer of dandruff on his back and 
shoulders, his coat and shirt front spotted with tokens of 
his meals, was sitting on a box, a cigar clenched in his 
mouth, and reading very intensely. He was a man of 
middle age, with quite a fierce interesting physiognomy, 
and as I soon found out, different to the ordinary book- 
sellers — also his stock was more select — being the 
author of several excellent poems. 

I soon became a regular frequenter of this place, 
where amongst others I made the acquaintance of an 
old, well to do Quaker — dressed in old fashioned drab 
suit, clerical neckwear, and broad brim, exactly as the 
Friends had walked about Independence Hall a hundred 
years before — who played an important part in my 
drama of life, as he launched me into a more intellectual 
society than hitherto had been my deplorable fate to 
associate with. 

And all this happened simply because I accidentally 
mentioned the author of the volume of poetry lying in 



Vv^ALT Whitman. 5 

state in my relatives' parlor. The dusty bookseller was 
highly astonished, that I, only a late edition to the con- 
glomeration called Americans, knew Stoddard's poems. 
A conversation about American literature ensued, he 
became interested in me, and introduced me to his 
acquaintances. 

We had regular little meetings in this shop, and dis- 
cussed one literary subject after the other, and during 
one of these, the dusty bookseller advised me to call on 
Walt Whitman. *' He is living right across the river, 
in Camden, he likes to see all sorts of people. " The 
Quaker argued that it had always been his intention to 
go over, but somehow he never got to it, and as he was 
an old man, I should do it instead. A young Jewish 
lawyer present remarked with triumphant glee that he 
has crossed the ferry with Whitman sitting at his side. 

So I decided to go. 



MY FIRST VISIT. 

IT was in November, 1884, that I paid my first visit to 
Walt Whitman. 
After crossing the Delaware — in my excitement to 
get there I took the wrong ferry, which lands the 
passengers a few blocks higher up the river than 
the other — I asked a policeman if he knew where 
Whitman resided. " Of course, I know — " he directed 
me: " — and then you see a little two story frame house, 
grey, that's the place." 



6 Conversations with 

Arrived in Mickle Street, one of the most quiet and 
humble in provincial Camden, I easily found number 
328 and rang the bell. 

It was a disagreeable day, snow was lying on the 
ground, and though it was thawing, the wind felt cold 
as it sped through the streets and rattled at the shutters. 

An old man with a long grey beard, flowing over his 
open shirt front — the first thing I actually saw of 
Whitman was his naked breast — half opened the door 
and looked out. 

Sadakichi: " I would like to see Walt Whitman. " 

Whitman : "That*s my name. And you are a Japan- 
ese boy, are you not ? " (Except very small boys the 
only person I met in those years who recognized my 
nationality at the first glance.) 

Sadakichi: *' My father is a German, but my mother 
was a Japanese and I was born in Japan." 

Whitman: " H'm — Come in. " 

And he led me into the small and humble two win- 
dowed little parlor, with its chilly atmosphere, as no fire 
was lit, and everything in great disorder. The first 
color impression of the interior, was a frugal grey. He 
sat down at the right window, where he was generally 
to be seen, with his face turned towards the street. 
Visitors seated themselves at the opposite side. 
Between the host and guest stood a table, actually 
covered with books, magazines, newspaper clippings, 
letters, manuscripts. A demijohn, which looked very 
suspicious to me until I was better informed, occupied 
a conspicuous place on the table, and during the 



Walt Whitman. 7 

summer a glass with flowers, brought by some lady 
friend, was always within his reach. The rest of 
the room looked very much like the table ; a varitable 
sea of newspapers, books, magazines, circulars, re- 
jected manuscripts, etc., covered the floor in a topsy- 
turvy fashion, and only here and there odd pieces 
of furniture, a trunk, a large heap of his own publica- 
tions loomed up like rocks. On the mantlepiece stood 
an old clock, surrounded by photographs of celebrities 
and friends, on my first visit also a few apples and 
onions were lying there. On one side of the mantle- 
piece hung the portrait of his father, on the other side 
that of his mother: two strong, highly interesting 
physiognomies. As I studied them one day, he re- 
marked: "I never forget that my ancestors were Dutch." 
There was nothing overwhelming to me in Whitman's 
face, but I liked it at once for its healthy manliness. It 
seemed to me a spiritually deepened image of contem- 
porary Americans : an ideal laborer, as the Americans 
are really a nation of laborers. Above all else I was 
attracted by the free flow of his grey hair and beard, 
and his rosy complexion, Boucher like, only healthier 
and firmer in tone. Of his features the large distance 
between his heavy eyebrows and his bluish grey eyes, 
(calm and cold in their expression) denoting frankness, 
boldness, haughtiness, according to my physiognomical 
observations, particularly interested me. His forehead 
was broad and massive, not furrowed by Kantean 
meditation, but rather vaulted by sipontsineous proJ}/iedes 
(in the sense in which Whitman applies this word to 



8 Conversations with 

Carlyle, viz: II 169.)* His broad nose with dilated 
nostrils showed with what joy of living he had inhaled 
life. 

He was dressed as usual in a grey suit, and neglige 
shirt with a broad turnover collar. I was too much 
impressed by the passive power of his personality, and 
occupied in studying his appearance and the milieu in 
which he lived to be able to remember much of this 
first conversation. 

At that time I was stage-struck, and of course men- 
tioned my intention to devote myself to the histrionic 
art; I contemplated a special study of Shakespeare's 
fools (though I was rather too tall for them, they should 
be played by Marshall Wilders.) 

Whitman : (shaking his head): ^'I fear that won't 
go. There are so many traits, characteristics, Ameri- 
canisms, inborn with us, which you would never get at. 
One can do a great deal of propping. After all one 
can't grow roses on a peach tree. " 

I spoke of Japan, of the beautiful bay of Nagasaki 
though I did not know much about it from personal 
recollection. 

Whitman: *' Yes, it must be beautiful. " 

On leaving he gave me a proof sheet copy of "After 
all Not to Create Only/* saying paternally ; " Read it 
over six or eight times and you may understand it." 

"Come again, come again!" he shouted after me. 



♦Volume and page quotations from the i89i-'2 edition, David McKay, publisher, 23 
South Ninth Street, Philadelphia, Pa., recommended by Whitman as the most com- 
plete and satisfactory. 



Walt Whitman. 9 

VISITS DURING 1886, MARCH— OCTOBER. 

0|NE of my first visits, after I had returned to Philadel- 
phia from m}^ first European trip, was to the " good 
grey poet." I told him about my studies, my stay in 
Hamburg, Berlin and principally Munich, where I had 
enjoyed a delightful series of conversation with Paul 
Heyse, the foremost living author of Germany ; also that 
I had written an article ''Ein Besuch bei Walt Whitman" 
for the '■^ Munchner Nicest e Nachrichtcn'' in which I 
had made some comparison of his works with the old 
Greek literature, a comparison I was rather ashamed of. 

I felt relieved, however, when he remarked : " The 
Greek nation was the most remarkable one after all." 

Speaking of Germany, he observed with paternal 
good-will, " The old countries have also their destiny — 
there is no such thing as decay." 

I purchased from him two copies of the 1882 McKay 
edition of his literary work. 

" One is for you ?" he asked, " I let you have it for half 
price." 

" Do you sell many ?" I inquired. 

"Very few, very few," and he shook his head, " I be- 
lieve not more than two hundred a year," he added with 
slight mockery. 

Whitman was always very fond of speaking of his 
literary achievements, and remarked on various oc- 
casions : 

" There is a certain idea in my works — to glorify in- 
dustry, nature, and pure instinct." 



lo Conversations with 

After commenting on Browning. " If anything has a 
destiny, the English language has a destiny. In my 
books, in my prose as well as my poetry are many knots 
to untie." 

" Leaves of Grass are the reflections of American life 
and ideas which reflect again." 

Leaves of Grass ! How adequate a title ! Truly his 

poems are chaotic in appearance like clusters of wild 

grass. As we loll amongst them, looking from blade to 

blade, they seem to us so prosaic, and yet so rythmical 

in their hieroglyphic simplicity and munificent utility. 

And considering them from some distance we observe 

with what masterhand these spears are grouped together, 

as if Gothic Diirer had outlined them, as if we were 

gazing into the forest-like halls of nature's cathedral. 
* * * 

As my hesitancy at calling too often had been allayed 
once for all by his cheerful " Come again, come again !" 
only a short time elapsed before I was again wending 
my way to Camden, I read to him a little treatise on 
beauty, my first original literary effort in English that 
I had flogged out of my brain with considerable exer- 
tion during an afternoon in Fairmount Park. 

I read a sentence that sounded very much like Millet's: 
"All is proper to be expressed, provided one's aim is only 
high enough," and which he quotes as a motto (II, 302). 

'' Where did you get that from ?" he started up, most 
eagerly. 

I explained, and continued to read; when I had finished 
I asked : '' Well, what is your opinion about it ?" 



Walt Whitman. ii 

There was a pause, as if he wanted to indicate that 
my writing did not call forth any opinion in him, then 
he said leisurely : " They are truisms — I am no wor- 
shipper of beauty. I do not believe in abstract beauty." 

At that time I did not exactly know what he meant 
by abstract beauty, so I merely nodded and uttered a 
long drawn ' Ye-es' with a knowing air. 

As I was leaving, he pointed towards a bunch of red 
carnations that were standing in a glass before him. 

''Take a pink!" 

I took one, pressed it among my '' Leaves of Grass," 
and have kept it ever since. 

^ * * Hs * 

Many of his visitors have complained that, Whitman 
was unbearably selfish in his social intercourse. Of 
course they gave in, that they could walk straight into 
his parlor, shake hands with him, and sit down whenever 
they liked, but right there all privileges ceased, as it 
was simply impossible to make him speak, and after a 
few vain endeavors, shy at first and then more or less 
indignant, they had to give it up as a hopeless task. 
True enough. Whitman had a peculiar habit of being 
absent-minded in company, especially that of strangers — 
which Dr. Max Nordau considers one of the strongest 
proofs of Whitman's moral insanity — and to the despair 
of uninitiated visitors he answered all their questions 
with his favorite ejaculation: oy! oy? or oy!? This 
peculiarity excited the ire of many visitors, and with 
right, as some had come all the way from England and 
were full of expectancy about the harvest they were to 



12 Conversations with 

reap of wise oracular utterances — but why should a man 
always feel like talking, at any time of the day, with any 
person who might have taken it into his head to call, 
often out of sheer curiosity or egotistical purpose ! I 
personally found him sociable enough. At times I also 
found it extremely difficult to induce him to take an 
actual active part in a conversation, and do something 
else but listen and ejaculate, but I generally found a 
successful remedy in simply talking on, jumping from 
one subject to the other, until finally he became inter- 
ested in one thing or another, and when he had once 
begun, it was comparatively easy to proceed. On sev- 
eral exceptional occasions we talked for two or three 
hours without interruption, which clearly revealed to 
me, however, that he had no remarkable conversational 
power. He was no Johnson, no ready wit, or specula- 
tive monologist, had nothing whatever of the fluent 
delivery of learned men, or of the French causeur 
litteraire. He was always awkward in his utterances, 
often clipping verbs and conjunctions, making abrupt 
halts, leaving sentences unfinished — in short applying 
somewhat the style of his shorter poems — which really 
made it laborious to get anything of literary value from 
his conversation. 



Walt Whitman. 13 

AN IMPORTANT VISIT. 

*' I have read your books right through" I exclaimed 
beamingly as I entered. 

" Oy! oy? — " Did you make anything out of it ? " 

I then told him the various impressions his writings 
had made upon me, and finally asked: "Do you believe 
that mankind can be improved by books ? " 

Whitman: "I can hardly say that I had the idea to 
better mankind. I grew up like a tree — the poems are 
the fruit. Good literature ought to be the Roman 
cement; the older it grows — the better it serves its 
purpose. " 

An old peddler passed by. Whitman waved his hand, 
his famous Salut au Monde, as he did to nearly every 
passer-by. 

The ragged old man stopped before the window and 
displayed his ware. 

Whitman greeted him with a cordial *' How do you 
do, sir?" and leaning a little out the window pointed at 
a set of collar buttons: " How much are they?" 

Peddler: (holding them up to him) ''Five cents." 

Whitman: " No, thanks, I don't need any to-day. " - 

Then followed an awkward pause. 

I produced the copy of "After all Not to Create Only" 
with which he had presented me, handsomely bound. 

" Why how nice it looks !" he exclaimed, scrutinizing 
it from all sides. 

" Wont you inscribe something in it ? " I asked. 

"Thanks " he answered, and holding the book on his 
knee, his habitual way of writing, he penned dovv^n the 



14 Conversations with 

words, 'Given to C. S. H., by Walt Whitman* in his im- 
mense, uncouth, heavy-stroked handwriting, which offers 
marvelous opportunities to chirographists. 

After this performance another pause, and a few vain 
attempts on my side to get him interested in some 
topic. 

I mentioned at haphazard that my old Quaker friend 
had been one of his very first admirers, having studied 
the 1856 edition. 

"Why I must go to see him," he exclaimed enthusias- 
tically "yes, that's what I am going to do !" He never 
did, but we talked for a while quite seriously about how 
it could be accomplished without exerting him. 

"I want you to do me a favor — " and Whitman sud- 
denly rose, dragging himself slowly step by step, with 
the help of a stick in a sideward direction through the 
room and upstairs. I looked after him for an explana- 
tion, but as none came, glanced over some books on the 
table, and was attracted by an old voluminous edition 
of Walter Scott's poems with numerous margin notes 
in red ink. He returned with a clipping of a German 
newspaper, handed it to me, and asked me to translate 
it. It was an ordinary newspaper concoction on "Leaves 
of Grass," comparing his style with that of the psalmists. 

Whitman smiled: " I don't know why some men com- 
pare my book with the Bible." 

Another pause ensued. 

For at least half an hour I spoke of a dozen different 
subjects or more, without getting anything else but an 
occasional oy! oy? as answer, nevertheless, one could 



Walt Whitman. 15 

presume from the way Whitman poised his head, that 
he was listening quite attentively most of the time. 

At last I broke this silence by mentioning that I had 
read Bryant's "Thanatopsis." "There is something 
large about it," I remarked. 

Whitman: "He is our greatest poet. He had a smack 
of Americanism, American individuality, smack of out- 
door life, the wash of the sea, the mountains, forests, 
and animals. But he is too melancholy for a great 
representative of American poetry. " 

Sadakichi: "It seems that the New England States 
have produced nine tenths of all our American literati 
(a word I had learnt from Whitman, which he used 
with preference instead of authors, poets etc). I cannot 
understand the worship of Emerson. Many of his ideas 
one can find in the Alexandrian philosophers." 

Whitman: "Emerson's deficiency is that he doubts 
everything. He is a deep thinker, though he had hardly 
any influence on me; but people say so; maybe, without 
my knowledge. He had much of the Persians and 
Oriental people. He is only the offspring of other suns 
tumbling through the universe." 

For a moment I thought of Whitman and Emerson, 
arguing under the old elms of Boston Common about 
certain passages in the " Children of Adam" and Whit- 
man, after listening for two hours to the well nigh 
indisputable logic of Emerson, being "more settled 
than ever to adhere to his own theory." (American 
genre painters should tackle that subject!) 



i6 Conversations with 

Whitman : " Did you read Holmes ? " 

Sadakichi : Very little. He serves his humor in a 
dainty fashion; yet I cannot digest it, it is too dry for 
me." 

Whitman : " He is very witty, very smart, not first 
rank and not second rank; man of fine culture, who 
knows how to move in society; he takes the same place 
in modern society as the court singers and troubadours 
in the Middle Ages, who had a taste for castles, ladies, 
festivals, etc., who knew exactly how to move among 
kings and princes; but something was failing, that very 
thing which would have made him a poet." 

His opinion about Mark Twain was similar. 

Sadakichi : " It seems to me, as if all these men pro- 
duced nothing new. They are like imitators, for in- 
stance, was Washington Irving anything but a clever 
English essayist ? " 

Whitman: "Some people think they are poets if they 
have a feeling for jewels, paste gems, feathers, birds, 
flowers, perfume, etc. In a barbaric country among 
uncivilized people they would deserve some praise, but 
not in our time, when everybody can imagine these 
things." 

Sadakichi : " Like Gilder and Stoddard ? " 

Whitman : " Who ? " 

Sadakichi : " Stoddard, for instance ? " 

Whitman : " Stoddard is fair, but many are like him.'* 

Sadakichi : " Whittier seems to reflect more of the 
milieu of his creed and country ? " 



Walt Whitman. 17 

Whitman : '* Whittier was a strong poet, the favorite 
of Horace Greeley — as good and powerful in his old 
days as in his young. Much earnestness and fierceness 
bends all his Quaker peace." 

Sadakichi : "And the critical element, is it entirely 
lacking ? Whipple ? (I shrugged my shoulders) Lowell, 
of course." 

Whitman : (nodded) " Cute, elegant, well dressed, 
somewhat of a Yankee — student — college." 

Sadakichi : " I think Stedman is after all the best we 
have. " 

Whitman : " Oy ? (pause — smiling) Stedman is, after 
all, nothing but a sophisticated dancing master. If Her- 
cules or Apollo himself would make their appearance 
he would look at them only from the standpoint of a 
dancing master. Now I have to be excused. I feel 
tired." 

So I shook hands with him, and left satisfied with that 

afternoon's conversation at any rate. 

* * * 

During this as well as the following visits, I made it 
my object to practice Boswellean tactics, I generally 
prepared my questions beforehand. Sitting opposite 
him, I never let any words of importance escape from 
his lips without repeating them several times rapidly to 
myself, and as soon as I was on the ferry I jotted them 
down on scraps of paper, word by word. 

These estimates of contemporary American authors 
aroused quite a storm of indignation v/hen I published 
them in the New York Herald in 1880, v/hich was the 



iS Conversations with 

more strange as Whitman made similar statements in 
his writings, for instance on Longfellow (II, 481). Mr. 
Th. B. Earned, of Camden, even went as far as to write 
to me, after I had published them once more in the 
Boston Weekly Reviezv in '93: 

"I have been* shown in the Reviezv your article con- 
taining alleged sayings of Walt Whitman respecting 
certain authors. It is not fair to reprint this after 
Whitman's death. This article caused considerable 
trouble when it was first published. Walt repudiated 
the whole article and told me that you manufactured it. 
You make him call Stedman a * sophisticated dancing 
master ' and this caused no end of mischief, Walt has 
the greatest possible regard for Stedman and there was 
a strong attachment between these two men. Walt 
assured Stedman at that time that you had coined the 
expression out of your own unaided imagination." 

To this I can only reply, that Walt Whitman has said 
every word that I attribute to him, and that I feel obliged 
to leave various utterances of interest, for instance on 
Ho wells, etc., unpublished because I am not quite certain 
whether the wording, as I have it, is absolutely correct. 
What object had I in coining these critical remarks! 
And as far as Whitman's repudiation is concerned, I 
simply do not believe in it. The Whitman, I knew, 
never repudiated. I saw Whitman quite often after the 
publication of the Herald article, and he never men- 
tioned a word to me about it. And could Whitman and 
Stedman not frankly express opinions about each other, 
and yet entertain a strong attachment? From the 



Walt Whitman. 19 

conventional point of view Stedman's comments on 
Walt (which are quoted later on ; to me the most rea- 
sonable criticism ever made on certain traits of Whit- 
man's open and yet so complex character) were just as 
straightforward. Besides what did Whitman mean by 
calling Stedman 'a sophisticated dancing master' but 
that all critics — and Stedman is our best critic of the 
old school — are sophisticated dancing masters in com- 
parison to creative minds, eternity-souls (like Walt 
Whitman). There is, however, still another point on 
which the Philistines may attack me mosc cruelly. 
What right have I or any person to repeat wliat so and 
so remarked about so and so in private conversation ! 
Was I a malicious scandal-loving tale-bearer, a literary 
spy in service of sensational journalism! Indeed I was 
not. All I received for the publication of these notes 
was twelve dollars, and that only three years after the 
conversations had happened. My code of morals sim- 
ply differs on the point of discretion with that of these 
people. I believe implicitly that no person should say 
anything about another, which they would not be will- 
ing to repeat or have repeated face to face with the 
person discussed. To practice this principle — I am 
convinced that men of the Whitman type share this 
view — comes absolutely natural to me, and I have acted 
accordingly (always ingenuously, of course) since child- 
hood, despite the endless inconveniences that have 
ensued out of it for me. 



20 Conversations with 



A LUNCHEON WITH WHITMAN. 

We had been talking about politics. 

WhitxMAn : " It does not matter much who's in 
Washington. Certainly they must have one — and I 
think Cleveland tries to do his best." 

Sadakichi : " Then you consider all party contests 
unnecessary from an ideal point of view ? '* 

Whitman : " Americans are allowed to be different. 
The theory of onv government is to give to every man 
the freedom of his activity — to work, study, electrify." 

'Yes in theory,' I thought, 'but not in practise ' and 
wondered at his apparant indifference to present con- 
ditions. I soon learnt that Whitman looked at all 
things from the most cosmic point of view possible. 

Then our conversation drifted to Bismarck. 

Sadakichi : " Bismarck refounded the German 
nation, and Wagner gave to it a national art." 

Whitman : " Yes, Bismarck's work of life is to make 
Germany strong, Stanton was very much like him. I 
excuse a great deal of tyranny, even cruelty in the 
government of a nation. Stanton was a steady supple- 
ment to Lincoln." 

Whenever he spoke of Lincoln his voice seemed to 
assume a tone of reverence. His estimate of the 
martyr president was almost idolatrous. He considered 
himself nothing in comparison, and several times in mv 
presence murmured, as if to remind himself : " Lincoln 
is our greatest man. I sometimes ask myself what 



Walt Whitman. 21 

would have become of us if he hadn't been president 
.during those terrible years, 1862-5." 
j Nothing was more natural than Whitman's love for 
jLincoln. Lincoln as a man of deed was as true a 
representative of our American conglomeration and the 
;'' Democratic Vista " of its future, as the literary prophet 
himself ; and as a character-study Lincoln was even 
more suggestive of grandeur, for as Whitman has 
written '* four sorts of genius, four mighty and primal 
hands, will be needed to the complete limning of this 
man's future portrait — the eyes and brains and finger 
touch of Plutarch and Eschylus and Michael Angelo, 
assisted by Rabelais." 

Who knows if in centuries to come, when so much has 
clarified that now confuses our view, Lincoln and 
Whitman will not stand distinct in the mists of the past 
like Pericles and Phidias. 

How sincere and persistent Whitman was in his 
Lincoln cult everybody knows who has heard him read 
his Memorial lecture, or 'Captain my captain' with 
which he generally concluded. His very life blood 
throbbed in every word, as he slowly proceeded, sen- 
tence after sentence, with that noble simplicity which 
only strong personalities can apply successfully, as their 
individuality alone is sufficient to satisfy the curiosity 
of intelligent audiences. I, for my part, shall never 
forget how he read the simple words, ' the hospitals, 
oh, the hospitals.' The ' Paradox on the Comedian ' 
could never produce such an effect. 



22 Conversations with 

Sadakichi : " What is your estimate of Washington ?" j 

Whitman (in an almost humerous tone) : " George 
Washington had the power of organization, the ability 
to indentify the power of the States. He was ac: 
Englishman, an English Franklin — wealthy — well 
educated — with high morals." 

Then Billie, a railroad newsboy, who boarded with 
Whitman's housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, came bouncing in, 
kissed Whitman repeatedly and asked whether luncheon 
was ready. 

Whitman (rising) "Mrs. Davis is out, but we'll manage 
to get something. Come on, Mr. Sadakichi." 

We sojourned into the kitchen. Billie was sent out 
to get a can of lobster, and there was quite a dispute 
between the two as to what kind they wanted, one being 
a few cents more expensive. 

Then Whitman set the table, and I assisted him. 

Whitman (limping to the range and frying several 
eggs) : " The American nation is not much at present, 
but will be some day the most glorious one on earth. 
At first the cooking must be done, the table set, before 
one can sit down to a square meal. We are now tuning 
the instruments, afterwards comes the music." 

Then he brought out some California claret, and 
when Billie returned with the lobster, we sat down- 
several hens running in and out the half open door 
through which one could catch a glance of the red and 
green of a sunlit yard — and had a very jolly repast. 

Whitman was in the best of humor and ate heartily. 

Whitman : " Have you been West ? " 



i 



Walt Whitman. 23 

Sadakichi : " No— but I have a brother in Denver, 
v^ho has written to me about his adventures out there." 

Whitman (enthusiastically) : " In Denver I would 
ike to live ! " and he began to relate his Denver 
mpressions, of the smelting works, etc., several sen- 
ences with an astonishing similarity to those in his 
specimen Days (II, 146). 

Whitman always succeeded in putting the most vital 
ssence of things into his rhapsodical writings, and his 
onversation on the same topics, even after years, could 
DC nothing else but repetitions of what he had already 
expressed in the jagged structures of his poetry or 
3rose. 

The restless commercial activity of the Americans, 
)ur strongest social trait, is not favorable to the culti- 
Wtion of an independent spiritual life. Even in the 
icquirements of educational mediums the same haste 
;s applied, as if Stanford universities and metropolitan 
■^rt schools could produce culture. 

^ The reticent inward growth in artistic domains was 
therefore rendered extremely difficult, and, though 
Whitman was a creative genius of the first magnitude, 
he lacked the constructive ability of great European 
blinds. 

) We had nearly finished when Whitman remarked : 
y In New York, Boston, the East, they eat their bread 
^ nd beef and digest it for the Western world, but in the 
5>alley of the Mississippi there is quite another life." 
^^ After we had returned into the front room, Billie 
'l:ame and fondled around him, asking if we could not 



24 Conversations with 

have a drink of whiskey, he would go upstairs and get 
it. 

Whitman: ''Not to day! Not to day!" (and took 
a drink of the demijohn on the table.) 

Sadakichi : " What is that ? " 

Whitman : " Spring water." 

When the boy saw that his begging was useless he 
kissed Whitman several times, and left. 



ANOTHER LITERARY AFTERNOON. 

Sadakichi : " Sidney Lanier, weak as he is, seemsi 
to me after all our most modern poet." 

Whitman: " Oy ! oy?" 

Sadakichi : *' At any ray, though only a flute player,, 
he is more powerful than Dempster Sherman, Bliss' 
Carman, or Paul Hayne." 

Whitman : " Who ! Paul Hayne ? I don't know 
much about him ; quite a poet, I presume, genteel, etc., 
nothing dazzling." 

Sadakichi : " Strange how America could ever' 
produce such a genius like Poe." 

Whitman (indifferently) : " Poe had a tendency/ 
for the gloomy side of life." 

Sadakichi : " I presume, you have also no speciaii 
liking for Hawthorne ? " 

Whitman : " About Hawthorne I have nothing par^l 
ticular to say. The multitude likes him. I have read| 
his novels. In my opinion, they do not amount tQ*'^ 
much. His w^orks are languid, melancholy, morbid.,, 



Walt Whitman. 25 

le likes to dwell on crimes, on the sufferings of the 
iuman heart, which he analyzes by far too much, 
pur literature will come ! The newspapers indicate 
t, miserable as they are, miserable and grand too as 
hey are." 

Sadakichi : " Do you not think that the present 
iterary shortcomings are due to the spirit of our 
ime ? " 

Whitman : " Our time ? We must settle a little 
nore, but there seems to be a demand for this hurly- 
mrly time/' 
Mrs, Davis (at the door): " The luncheon is ready." 
Whitman : " Come, Mr. Sadakichi have a bite." 
Once more we sat down at the kitchen table and 
lisplayed our strong, healthy appetites. I, at last, had 
ound my peer in eating. 

Whitman (eating) : "Just as we always prefer a 
iish that our mother cooked — it tastes better than 
mything else we get in after life — I like those books 
Dest, I read when I was young. Everybody who reads 
lovels not for mere pleasure will admire Walter Scott. 
Re had a Shakespearean variety of subject. He did 
lot analyze and anatomize his subjects." 
I Sadakichi : " Which of his novels do you like best ? " 
I Whitman : " The Heart of Midlothian. I read it 
)ver and over again." 

J I wanted to know his opinion on Victor Hugo, and 
jpoke of the marvelous description of the battle of 
Waterloo, but Whitman had no word of admiration. 
,*I do not like him much." 



26 Conversations with 

Sadakichi : " What do you think about Byron ? " 

Whitman : '' Byron became bitter through the ups 
and downs of his career, his life — specially the downs 
A desperate fierceness is predominent in his works.: 
But I like something more free — Homer, Shakespeare; 
Walter Scott, Emerson." 

In the parlor we resumed our review of literati. A 
few of his remarks w^ere : 

" Taine's Literature is one of the productions of om 
age" 

" Rousseau I have never read, of Voltaire now anc 
then a quotation." 

" Chinese literature, I think, is empirical." 

Probably, to protect himself against draughts, he 
had wrapped a shawl of an Oriental pattern around hif 
shoulders, and with his white beard streaming ovei 
this reddish orange cloth, he looked very much like 
one of those biblical characters, Rubens and his pupih 
have painted. 

Sadakichi (rising to leave) : " May I kiss you ?" 

Whitman : " Oh, you are very kind." 

I touched his forehead with my lips. " Thanks 

thanks !" ejaculated Whitman. With a blush of false 

shame I offered him this tender tribute of youthfu.' 

ardor, ambition, enthusiasm with which m^r soul wa; 

overflowing ; I felt that I had to show ) this mar 

some emotional sign of the love, I bore his works oi 

those of any remarkable individuality. ;■' 

* * * * * *, ^ * 

One afternoon I took an acquaintancefL./ith me t< 



! Walt Whitman. "^ 27 

photograph his house, the right window with Whitman 
looking out waving his Salut au Monde, and the in- 
terior of the parlor. 

I Sorry to report, the negative of the first was broken, 
knd the other two did not come out well, as the shy 
kroung man, who felt rather uncomfortable in the 
presence of the great man, was not far enough ad- 
vanced in amateur photography. The first negative, 
Df course, can be replaced at any time, but in regard 
:o the others it is a great pity, for, as far as I know, no 
mch photographs have ever been taken, and even 
Whitman's own descriptions cannot give us an exact 

dea of the peculiar atmosphere of his last years' 
•etreat. 
Now, everything is changed. 

A visit to the humble frame building in Mickle 
street hardly repays the trouble at present. The 
ilmost historically noted room looks like any other 
dinary parlor, as everything of interest has been 
\!5moved, and some new furniture added instead. Some 
■i Walt Whitman's admirers have privately agreed to 

uy the house and hand it down to posterity in its 

■resent state, making a sort of Whitman museum of it. 
pow stupid these rooms will look, with well swept 

"Vors, sole^xnly adorned with busts and neatly hung 

ith ph raphs ! 

Why noL wry and be original — original in the manner 

hat WaU Whitman would have liked — and give a 

ijerfec imile of the room as it was during the 

etin e poet — the floor strewn with newspapers, 



28 Conversations with 

magazines, and books ; on the table a demijohn with 

spring water ; on the mantelpiece photographs ; on the 

walls pictures of his parents ; in one corner a large 

heap of his own books ? It would be the work of an 

artistic person, who was familiar with Walt Whitman's 

way of living, to rearrange the room ; but it could be 

done and would be unique. 

* * * * 

On one of my visits I was accompanied by Miss E. 

Whitman at once shook hands with the young lady, 
and asked for her name. 

After some commonplaces had been exchanged, 
Whitman got up and said : " I am going out for a drive 
in a moment. There's the team. Stay here with Mrs. 
Davis, she will entertain you. Do as if you were at- 
home. (To Miss E.) You must come again. Good bye, , 
good bye ! " 

Then we talked commonplaces for a while with Mrsi 
Davis. I, who was subject to a frightful temper at th- 
time, asked the housekeeper if Whitman were always s 
calm', of that friendly but stoic nature, if nothing coulc 
disturb him. 

Mrs. Davis : " He is always that way. I am no\ 
with him for several years." 

Sadakichi : " But does he not even scold ? " 

Mrs. Davis: "Oh, no." 

I myself had later on a proof of the truth of thi, 
statement. One day he wished to show me an origina^ 
letter by Stanton. He looked over the various unrul; 
heaps of papers and books, at first in vain, but at la 



Walt Whitman. 29 

find it in some book in a rather dilapidated condition, 
if somebody had wilfully torn it. He simply gazed 
it for a long while, and then exclaimed in a grieved 
ice : " Why, I would give ten dollars if this was not 
ne r* 



IMPERTINENT QUESTIONS. 

The next time an autograph collector was on the 
ene, coaxing Whitman to give him some photographs 
d sign them. 
Autograph Fiend : " They w411 be valuable some 

y." 

Whitman (looking up) : "What are j^ou doing now ? " 
ISadakichi ; " I read your ' Pieces in Early Youth,' 
^at do you think of them ? " 
Whitman : " Pretty bad — pretty bad." 
Sadakichi : " I looked every where for your ' Frank 
7ans,' your novel on metropolitan city life, but no body 
ems to know anything about it." 
W^HiTMAN : " Oy ! ? " 

Autograph Fiend : '* Is this gentleman also a 
iter ? " 

Whitman : " No, Mr. Sadakichi is interested a little 
everything." 

Autograph Fiend (patronizingly) : " I believe Mr. 
hitman will some day be considered a great author." 
I ignored him, and Whitman silently handed him the 
/'ned photographs, then the fiend made his exit. 



30 Conversations with 

I pointed at some of Whitman's favorite books ai|'^ 
asked : 

**What will become of all these things, when yo 
die ? Surely they are of great value." ^ 

I don't know whether he was annoyed at this que* 
tion, but he responded rather growlingly, "I nev<ji 
think of that." 

Did he dislike to talk about death like Johnson 
Carlyle and many others ? 

Then I launched upon a still more impertinent topic, 
on his relation to women. 

Whitman (evading the question) : " One cannot say 
much about women. The best ones study Greek oi 
criticise Browning — they are no women." 

Sadakichi (rather brusquely) : " Have you eveii 
been in love ? " 

Whitman (rather annoyed by my cross examining) 
" Sensuality I have done with. I have thrown it out. 
but it is natural, even a necessity." 

I do not believe that Whitman was ever absorbed in 
a love of the Petrarch or Dante type, he stood moss 
likely between the ideal free lover and the ideal varietisti 

To entertain him I had brought with me the photcc 
graphs of a number of celebrities I had met in German} 
Showing him a photograph of the German actor, Erns 
Possart as Napoleon, he ardently exclaimed : " Veri 
fine— very fine ! " Of the others Paul Heyse's beautt 
ful Christ-like face interested him most. He looked f; 
it steadily for at least two minutes, and then with ar| 
outpouring of his very soul he uttered a long draw 



Walt Whitman. 31 

^Beautiful — beautiful !" The sound still rings in my 

-rs. 

How rugged and true, he appeared in comparison 

ith the European poet who is more polished and 

iautiful. 

I remarked that Paul Heyse had written to me 

)0ut him, and had compared " his staff rhymes to the 

unds of an ^olian harp, and traditional poetry to 

e music of a well tuned piano," and had also stated 

at he preferred "flowers and fruit to leaves of 

•ass." 

Whitman : " Strange !" 

Whitman (pointing at a bundle of manuscript): " Will 

>u take it to the Express for me? Mr, Kennedy, a 

ntleman who lives near Boston, has written about 

e." 

Sadakichi: " Of course. — How is it, satisfactory ? " 

Whitman: " Passable. To write the life of a human 

ing takes many a book, and after all the story is not 

Id." 

Sadakichi: " Shall I pay for it ? " 

Whitman (hesitating a moment): "No — let him 

y." 



32 Conversations with 



LAST VISIT IN 1886. 

Sadakichi: " I attended the seance of a medium j 
few nights ago." 

Whitman: "Oy ! " 

Sadakichi: ''She told me a few truisms about mysell 
besides a great deal of nonsensical stuff. I believe 
these mediums are merely clever women who have s 
motley knowledge of society and life, of physiognomy! 
and pathognomy, and above all else the gift of the gab 
though in rare cases they may be capable of clairvoy 
ance." 

Whitman (absent minded) : "There are so man 
other miracles in this world just like them, that can 
be explained." 

This opening brought us to religion. 

Whitman: " There is no worse devil than man." 

Sadakichi: ''But what do you think of churches 
where heaven and hell theories are continually ex- 
pounded ? " 

Whitman: " If the common consent of people thinis 
churches a necessity, they ought to be." 

Then, referring to an East Indian native who was 
trying to introduce Brahminism into America, he said 
in a slow, fault finding tone : " I don't think he m 
right." 

Sadakichi : " Do you consider the Christian reli 
superior to others ? " 

Whitman : " No, religions ." 



Walt Whitman. 33 

Sadakichi : " I as an artistic nature, always felt 
drawn towards the Catholic religion. Of course only on 
account of its picturesqueness and mysticism." 

Whitman: " Men should do as they please. Nobody 
has the right to interfere with another man's business, 
religion, or habits. That's what I have told to 
Ingersoll." 

Referring to church music, Whitman branched off on 
music in general. He spoke of a German street band 
that now and then played in the neighborhood, " very 
well." He was only superficially acquainted with 
Wagner and the new school. 

Whitman : " Verdi I think is one of the best musi- 
cians ; he is a storm with the intention of being a real 
storm. Mendelssohn is my favorite. I always like to 
hear him. Music is the only art where we get some- 
thing." 

Painting and sculpture was never mentioned in our 
conversations ; of course Whitman admired Millet, but 
the fact that he, who was so anxious to leave to posterity 
a correct description of his personality, never induced 
a first-class painter or sculptor to portray him, shows 
that he was not intimate with contemporary art. His 
figure as well as face were a wonderful subject for the 
chisel or brush of a great artist. The opportunity is 
lost, and photographs are all we have. 

Sadakichi : '^ I am sailing next week." 

Whitman: '^ Sailing to Europe, eh? Well, if you 
meet young men in Germany — artists — poets — tell 
them that the liberty and equality of which Freiligrath 



34 Conversations with 

and other classics sung, have been quacked over 
enough. Here in America we do the thing they talk 
of." 

Sadakichi : " Well, I think I must go. Good bye." 
Whitman: **Good bye, never forget to study the 
old, grand poets — but do not imitate them. We want 
something which pays reverence to our time." 

******* 

During my absence Miss E. visited Whitman, brought 

him some flowers and a greeting from me. Thereupon 

he decided to call her Emma. They spoke about me. 

Miss E.: '' He is studying life in Paris." 

Whitman : " Studying life, eh ! Let him take care, 

studying human life is like looking at the stars. If 

you look too close, there is a dazzle." 

* * * * * * * 

1 never corresponded with Whitman ; the only com- 
munication I received from him is a postal card 
acknowledging the receipt of some money for several 
of his books T had bought. It said, covering the 
entire card : 

"Yours rec'd — With many thanks — Walt Whitman." 



1887. 
The conversations during the summer of 1886 were 
really the most interesting I had with Whitman. 
Already in July, 1887, there was a decided difference 
in his deportment ; old age and bad health were telling 
on him, he became more taciturn than ever, and it was 



Walt Whitman. 35 

principally I who had to make up the large bulk of the 
conversation. 

In the meantime I had become a very close student 
of his work, produced a number of prose poems in im- 
itation of him, among them a 'To Walt Whitman.' 
My youthful enthusiasm extended so far as to cause 
me to starve in order to purchase his works and present 
them to leading European critics, so that they might 
write about him ; at one period I even thought of 
becoming his voluntary nurse. 

I had pitched my Bohemian tent in Boston, with the 
intention of re-introducing Whitman into New Eng- 
land. Whitman being rather badly off financially, a 
collection was made to enable him to keep a horse and 
buggy. It looked to me very much like charity, and 
I hoped to remedy it, by founding a Whitman Society 
which all Whitman admirers would join in order to 
give him a permanent pension and do away once for 
all with donations and charitable gifts. Other aims of 
the Society were to further the propogation of his 
works in cheap or gratuitous editions, to make the 
Whitman society a sort of literary club, with the estab- 
lishment of a library of the master pieces of foreign 
literature in the original language and a complete 
Whitman bibliography as main interest. 

All this was undoubtedly praiseworthy but as I could 
invest only $100 in the scheme, (largely spent for 
circulars sent all over the globe) and only two Phila- 
delphia gentlemen. Mr. David McKay, Whitman's 
publisher, and Mr. C. L. Moore, an amateur poet, had 



36 Conversations with 

the enthusiasm to pay the initial fee of twelve dollars, 
the project was never carried out. True enough in 
my youthful fervor I acted rather undemocratically by 
electing the officers of the Society myself, which were 
as follows : 

President : D. R. M. Bucke. 

Vice-President : W. S. Kennedy. 

Director : Your humble servant. 

Committee : C. E. Dallin, a sculptor ; Sylvester 
Baxter, of the Boston Herald, F. A. Nichols, literary 
editor of the Boston Globe, Max Elliot (Mrs. A. M. 
B. Ellis) correspondent of the Boston Herald, J. C. 
Chamberlain, of the Boston Transcript, 

Honorary Members : 

Mme. Th. Bentzon, Paris. 
Rudolf Schmidt, Copenhagen. 
Enrico Nencione, Firenze. 

The only meeting we ever had in the Boston Globe 
Building, was opened with the witty remark that also 
the Secession was had begun in such an humble way, 
and a censure to me that I had elected the officers, 
like a despot, without even asking their leave. It was 
proposed by Mr. Sylvester Baxter that all interested in 
the project should dine together and talk the matter 
over. Nobody seconded the motion. 

Although the enterprise was a failure, I learnt a 
good deal by it, as I met personally or corresponded 
with nearly all Whitman admirers here and abroad. 



1 



Among others I tried to induce Oliver Wendell 



Walt Whitman. 37 

Holmes and John Greenleaf Whittier to join us. The 
first I saw smirking, sitting near a framed Mona Lisa, 
in a little back room with a view on the Charles River, 
and the latter in a long linen ulster in his Danvers 
home. Holmes said, nervously twitching his lips in 
various directions, that he would be willing to give his 
name if Whittier was, and Whittier assured me that 
he also was willing only that Mr. Holmes would have 
to say the first word. 

How much cowardice there is practiced even by 
stars of second or third magnitude in evading a simple 
truthful answer that would settle such a matter at 
once ! 

Diplomatic Holmes would not express himself re- 
garding Whitman but continually smirked. 

Old Whittier said 'candidly : " I bear Whitman no ill 
will. He does what he thinks right. I, however, can 
not fully appreciate him. Perhaps it is my fault. I 
have been brought up too differently. They say to 
the pure everything is pure, yet it grieves me to see 
the noblest trailing in the dust, and the very lowest 
put on high." 



1887. 

I never mentioned the Society to Whitman himself, 
whom I saw again twice during a visit to Philadelphia, 
July 1887. 

'* Ah, Mr. Sadakichi, are you back again ? " He 
greeted me as cordially as ever. 



38 Conversations with 

I told him about Mme. Th. Bentzon's article in the 
Revue des Deux Mo7ides of 1872, which had introduced 
him into France, as a powerful individuality, though 
she was partial in preferring his war poems to all others; 
also that he was known and appreciated among the 
younger generation of poets, several of them imitating 
his diction without rhyme and rythm. Gabriel Sar- 
razin had not written his article as yet. I also showed 
him several articles about himself that had appeared in 
the German press and periodicals, none however as 
comprehensive as Freiligrath's short notice in the 
Augshurger Allgenteine Zeitung comparing him with 
Wagner, which is the more marvelous as it was written 
as early as 1868, when nearly all failed to grasp the 
meaning of Whitman's literary innovations. 

Also from Italy progress could be reported, Enrico 
Nencione had written a book on American literature 
giving Whitman and Poe the foremost rank, had com- 
mented upon him repeatedly in the Nuovo Antologia^ 
and called him in a letter to me " the great humanitarian 
poet of the new world." Carducci had expressed his 
admiration, and the Verists of course, found much of 
interest in him. 

That his Democratic Vistas in the Danish translation 
by Rudolph Schmidt had quite a circulation, and that 
Schmidt in his correspondence with me had expressed 
himself on the lines in Salut au Monde beginning with 
" I see the places of the sagas" (I 116) as being the best 
perhaps ever written on Scandinavia. On ending my 
report Whitman jovially burst out : " Why you are 



Walt Whitman. 39 

my expounder of Leaves of Grass in Europe ! " But 
the next moment he leaned back in his huge yellow 
polished arm chair, and let his chin drop on his chest 
as if a thought absorbed all his attention. 

Did he feel that the contents of his books by being 
uncorked and rebottled into other languages and 
*Weltanschauungen' evaporated their most intense and 
individual effloresence, the aroma of his rugged, sun- 
burnt American youth (Whitman had really accom- 
plished his mission before he was 40) before foreigners 
could enjoy them! 

Sadakichi : "Schmidt intends to write a great novel, 
a consume of Danish society." 

Whitman : " He undertakes a great deal." 

Sadakichi : '* By the by, Schmidt complained to me 
in a letter that he had written repeatedly to you about 
the great sorrow of his life, his wife suffering from some 
mental disease, but that he had never received a word 
of sympathy from your great humane soul, as he ex- 
pressed himself." 

Whitman : " Pshaw ! " 

Sadakichi : " You probably think why should I feel 
more sympathy for him than others. The world is full 
of misery. But will you not write to him ? " 

Whitman : " Most likely." 

Whitman had not the glance of Indian sadness 
which in every pain mirrors its own fate, nor the 
trembling smile which we love in the images of the 
Greek. He was one of these stoic natures which we 
find in new countries, who knew how many human 



40 Conversations with 

sacrifices have to be made, before even the uncultivated 
soil will yield the bare necessities of subsistence. In 
his time he had also suffered for others, for few men 
have looked so deep into human life, an d^ scarcely any- 
thing could happen in this wide world of ours which 
did not awake "recalle's" in him, but his sympathy 
had become passive, and had dissolved in that peaceful 
state of the soul that the Germans call ' Lebensruhe,' 
which Goethe possessed in such an eminent degree. 

The next time we talked ot Boston. 

Sadakichi : "Your books are still in the locked 
shelves." 

Whitman : " In the locked shelves, are they, is'nt 
it funny ! " (smiling good-humoredly.) 

Sadakichi (taking up Carpenter's " Democracy '' ) : 
" They say his work resembles j^ours." 

Whitman (dryly) : *' Do they say that ? " 

Talking of his Boston friends and admirers, mention- 
ing one name or another, he asked quite anxiously : 
*' Quite a clever man, is'nt he ? " or " I hear, quite a 
man? " 

It was a rather unfriendly day, and as he sat there in 
his grey suit against the dark grey of the dreary street 
seen through the dusty window panes — he who had 
been for so many years not only not understood, but 
even not misunderstood, and who now in his old age 
still sat there in world-distracted poverty, secluded 
from the loud gayeties and soothing comforts of 
human life — the question : ^' Do you never long for the 
company of noble, intellectual, genuine women ? " was 
involuntarily uttered by me. 



Walt Whitman. 41 

Whitman (after a long pause) : " Yes, I think old 
men like me should have a lady to take care of them ; 
just as Montaigne had his Marie." 

This was the only time that I saw this stoic bent by 
a despondent melancholy mood. And then it was but a 
quickly passing cloud, as he remarked a few minutes 
later in a cheerful tone : " After all my staunchest 
friends have been O'Connor, Burroughs, and Rossetti 
in England.^' 

I could only nod approval. These men were really 
worthy of his friendship. O'Connor I have never met, 
but his fervent, eloquent vindication won my sympathy 
at once. W. M. Rossetti^s acquaintance I made during 
a stay in London. And John Burroughs I paid a visit 
to during a pedestrian trip along the Hudson, which I 
must relate as he represented to me just what I 
imagine a friend of Whitman's should be. 



A VISIT TO JOHN BURROUGHS. 

When I arrived at his little estate near West Park, 
over-looking the Hudson, he was picking berries. 

" Greetings from Walt Whitman. I called out as I 
approached him." 

He, without looking up, continued picking berries, I 
joined him in the work. 

Burroughs (throwing a side glance at me) : " How is 
Whitman ? " and a conversation on this topic ensued. 

He showed me over the grounds, while we talked 
chiefly about literature ; the particulars of the conver- 



42 Conversations with 

sation are entirely obliterated from my memory, I only 
recall that we passed a critical review on a motley 
crowd of authors and dwelt for quite a while on Victor 
Hugo. I liked his clear judgment and sturdy sim- 
plicity of deportment. 

Then we entered the house — simple but tasteful 
interiors — when he introduced me to his taciturn wife 
and little boy ; and we had a luncheon with wine. 

After luncheon Burroughs excused himself as he had 
to go to Poughkeepsie for a few hours. " But you stay 
right here, act as if you felt perfectly at home ; if you 
wish to read go into my study, perhaps, you prefer a 
plunge." 

For a while I glanced over Burroughs' works in his 
study, an ideal little place, a one room cottage, covered 
with bark on the outside, filled with books, and every 
convenience for writing ; and with a vista on the 
Hudson through the windows. Later during the after- 
noon his little son asked me to play with him : we 
rambled over the ground, climbed into the cherry trees, 
and had ' a rattling good time all around.' 

After Burroughs' return, supper was served, by his 
ever taciturn wife, and soon after I seized my knapsack 
and staff, ready to pursue my wandering to the Cats- 
kills. 

He accompanied me to the gate, and cordially shook 
hands with me: "I am sorry that I can't accommodate 
you over night, but we have no servant girl at present. 
Drop in if you come this way again — and best wishes 
to Walt." 



Walt Whitman. 43 

And as I strolled along the dusty highway, while the 
mists of evening wove their veils over the distance, I 
wondered at the hospitality of this man to a perfect 
stranger, for he had not even asked me for my name. 



1888. 



Next time I saw Whitman was in May 1888, a few 
days before my departure for England. 

Sadakichi : *' Have you done anything with your 
" November Boughs " ? " 

Whitman : " Here they are ! " (pointing down at a 
bundle of ragged manuscripts, tied together, which he 
used as a footrest.) 

Sadakichi : " Would you present me with a piece of 
original manuscript ?" 

Whitman (without answering, got up, untied a 
bundle of manuscript and handed me "Roaming in 
Thought" (I 216) written on the back of a creditor's 
letter): "This will do." 

Sadakichi : "What do you think about St. Gaudens' 
Lincoln ? " 

Whitman : " I really don't know what I think 

about it." 

******* 

Whitman like most of our American writers was not 
well posted on foreign literature, in particular on foreign 
contemporary literature. Nietzsche, Ibsen, the Verists, 
the Symbolists, etc. etc. he had not heard of or they had 
made no impression on him. 



44 Conversations with 

Sadakichi : " You read Tolstoi ? " 

Whitman : " Not much. In translation — I don't 

think he has written anything more powerful than his 

King Lear of the Steppes. It has some of the quality 

of King Lear, not merely a resemblance to the plot. I 

read War and Peace. I couldn't make much out of it. 

The translation seems to be very superficial, poor. — A 

good book should be like Roman cement, the older it 

grows, the better it sticks." 

******* 

Sadakichi : " Could you give me an introduction to 
Tennyson?" 

Whitman : " Rather not. Some time ago I sent 
several ladies to him, and they had a royal time out of 
it." 

Sadakichi : " Would you not do the same for me ? " 

Whitman : *' Rather not. He is getting old and is 
bothered too much. Go and see young Gilchrist." 

Then we talked about Mrs. Gilchrist, the author of a 
* 'Woman's Estimate of Whitman." 

Sadakichi : " She was one of your very best friends, 
was she not?" 

Whitman : " Yes, she was very much to me," and 
his voice trembled, the only time that I felt something 
like tears in his voice. 

Whitman (as I departed): "Tell my English friends 
that I feel well — and many thanks to them — that 
I live very economically, but you don't know what 
support I get from my friends; besides I write for the 
magazines and get well paid. The state of my affairs 



Walt Whitman. 45 

is at present very bright. Why should I trouble my- 
self, I have only a few years to live." 



A MEETING WITH E. C. STEDMAN. 

I did not see Whitman again before September, 1889, 
My feelings towards him had somewhat changed, as i 
was developing into a writer myself ; I feared that 
Whitman might have too strong an influence upon me, 
and I had freely given away the various scraps, proof 
sheets, pictures of him, etc., he had given me, and even 
disposed of his books, in order not to read them any 
more. 

I do not remember anything Whitman said at this 
particular visit as I did not take any notes. I recall, 
however, that I related to him my meeting with E. C. 
Stedman : 

When I called one evening at Mr. Stedman's he had 
visitors, but he asked me to stay and made me wait 
over two hours. At last he appeared and addressed 
me : " I do not know anything about you except that 
you look like a gentleman." 

I introduced myself as the young fanatic of the Walt 
Whitman Society notoriety. 

Stedman : ''I hope you are not one of those Whit- 
maniacs ? " 

I denied the insinuation. 

Stedman (with fervor) : " I have no patience with 
them at all. I mean those men who say Whitman's 



46 Conversations with 

books are their Bible, who must always carry a copy of 
Leaves of Grass about their person, and put it under 
their pillows when they go to sleep. They are abso- 
lutely disgusting to me and I have told them so." 

Sadakichi : " Yes, you are right I have never 
in my life met a more narrowminded set of philistines 
than these Whitman worshippers. How they crouch 
on their knees before him and whine silly admirations 
in praise of him, whom they do not comprehend in 
the least, for there is really not a spark of Whitman's 
grandeur in any of them. A true Whitmanite would 
try to be like Whitman in character and action ; 
independent, not looking up to him as to a God." 

Stedman : "It is a good deal the fault of Whitman 
himself. He always liked to see himself worshipped, 
and he is not grateful at all after one does it." 
Sadakichi : " You knew Whitman well ? " 
Stedman : " Oh my, yes, we have often been to- 
gether, talked and drank beer together. In those days 
he paraded on Broadway, with a red shirt on, open in 
front to show the * scented herbage of his breast * and 
compared himself with Christ and Osiris. That is 
absurd!" 

Sadakichi : ** Do you think he affected it ? ' 
Stedman : " I do. Now it is quite different ; sitting 
there in his grey suit in Camden, quite gentlemanlike. 
I was always one of his admirers ; of course, I object 
to his * smell of the armpits,' and that sort of a thing, 
but I always defended him. Mrs. Ellen McKay 
Hutchinson, my co-operator, in compiling "The 



Walt Whitman. 47 

Library of American Literature " would give him no 
place at all. But no, I said, that cannot be, in a 
hundred years people will think a good deal more 
about him than now. He will grow.'^ 

Yes, Mr. Stedman and Co., with all due respect, 
Whitman will grow. We poor critics can not fell this 
mighty tree, whose foliage is destined to overshadow 
these states and, perhaps, the entire world. 

Poe was a genius that could have lived in any 
country. All the other authors did not express America 
as an entity, but only parts of it, like Hawthorne, 
Whittier, Thoreau, Bret Hart, Cable, Wilkins, etc. Walt 
Whitman, however, dragged the ever evolutionizing 
civilization of these States as far as his own develop- 
ment went, which is typical for the ideal American 
spirit of to-day, free from foreign idolatry. It is as 
if the murmuring of a multitude of people were mov- 
ing through his Leaves of Grass. And should the 
Americans ever become a patriotic democratic race, 
how much national enthusiasm and pride will jubilate 
in return around his memory. 



1890. 

June 1890 brought me once more to Philadelphia. 
He had already permanently retired to the rooms on 
the second floor. 

He spoke but little. Asking him for his health he 
answered. " Oh, I am well taken care of, I eat plenty 
of berries and milk." 



4$ Conversations with 

After a long pause, he suddenly asked me. " Did you 
ever meet Ingersoll ? You should meet him. He is 
really a fine fellow." 

The rest of this call's conversation consisted almost 
entirely of questions on my part, and extremely brief 
answers in the affirmative or negative. 

I mentioned the German translation of Leaves of 
Grass *' Grasshalme," by Karl Knortz and T. W. Rolles- 
ton, published in Zurich, 1889. 

Whitman : " Is it — good ? " 

Sadakichi : " Yes the selections make a good im- 
pression." 

Whitman : ''That's all what non-Americans can ex- 
pect." 



FINALE. 

In March 1891 I took my wife to see him. He was 
very ill. Contrary to the easy access I generally had, 
Mrs. Davis had to go up stairs first and ask him, if he 
could see me. ** Yes, for a moment." 

So we went up stairs. All his former buoyancy 
seem to have left him, he was really a very old man. 

" This is my wife, Mr. Whitman." " Oy ! oy ! " he 
exclaimed, "be seated madam." 

I asked about his health, if he was still writing a line 
now an then. 

Whitman : '* Yes, I keep it up to the last, but it is 
now good bye to my fancy." 



Walt Whitman. 49 

I entertained him with the report of the progress his 
works were making, spoke again of Nencione. 

He was very eager to get his address. 

We were hardly seated for five minutes when a meal 
was brought in on a tray : coffee, meat, bread and 
butter, fruit and pie. 

Sadakichi : " Well, we had better go. I hope you 
will soon feel better." 

Whitman : ** It is clouded now, possibly, it '11 pass 
by." 

These were the last words Walt Whitman spoke to 
me. 

******* 

When the report of his death reached me, I was in 

New York. I felt very much like running over to 

Camden and speaking a few words at the funeral, but as 

my means were very limited at the time, and as my 

presence was really unnecessary where so many had to 

pay their tribute of condolence, I went into Central 

Park instead, and held a silent communion with the 

soul atoms of the good gray poet, of which a few seemed 

to have wafted to me on the mild March winds. 
******* 

This memorandum has come to an end. Intentionally 
I abstained from all analytical criticism of his works, 
and pycho-physiological investigation into his character. 

My old Quaker friend once humorously remarked 
that some day I might be able to publish something like 
Erckmann — Chatrians " Gespraeche with Goethe." Of 
course this pamphlet has no such pretentious aim. I 



50 Conversations with 

merely wished to relate my personal relation with Walt 
Whitman, trnthfully and without embellishment, and by 
so doing, to give as faithful a picture as can be given 
of the living Walt Whitman, slowly ebbing in the sands 
of seventy, when at last the storm of derision had 
ceased, and his fame was flaming up all over the world. 

Whitman's estimate of me, I presume was less favor- 
able than one might imagine from my intimacy with 
him. I was a mere lad of nineteen when we had the 
most striking conversations, and though I was a much 
more brilliant and less phlegmatic conversationalist 
than now, our relation was after all very much like 
that of a disciple to his master. Besides my inde- 
pendent, despotic nature, which never flatters, must 
have annoyed him at times, for instance when I re- 
marked that the writings of his old age would not add 
a particle to the glory of the work of his manhood, or 
that other poets would rise and treat him as he has 
treated the past. 

He had arrived at that point of life when even 
eternity souls become steady. There is a boundary 
line, in particular for prophets and innovators, beyond 
which they search no longer for new realms, but stop 
to rotate around themselves. In short it is that period 
in a great man's life, when he has acquired his indis- 
putable and greatest, more or less universal reputation ; 
for when such a mighty spirit stops to proceed, his 
few apostles can also stop on the laborious march and 
take a rest, and the stragglers will approach in a medley 
crowd and no longer consider themselves stragglers. 



Walt Whitman. 51 

Criticism, abuse, calumniation which persecute each 
growing greatness, grow silent ; all come to shake 
hands with him and laud him to the skies. And the 
great man gazes around and is astonished that he has 
got so far, and he feels religious, and mild, and forgiv- 
ing towards all — except those who disturb the peace, 
those who want to proceed. For he who has been a 
leader, wants to remain a leader. 

Nevertheless, what the old Quaker, shortly before 
his death, remarked about his intercourse with me, I 
could repeat in regard to Walt Whitman. "When I 
summon up all the incidents of our acquaintance, it 
was perfectly satisfactory in every way." I would 
only add * the most satisfactory one I ever had, without 
exception.^ 

It was calm, invigorating, softly flowing on like a 
summer day in the open fields or on the ocean. 




Previous Works of the Aiithor. 



Essays (1889-91) in "The Theatre" New York, published by 
Deshler Welch. 



Christ " a dramatic poem in three acts, published in Boston, 
1893. Out of print. Copies valued at $5.00. 



The Art Critic" November, 1893, January and March, 
1894. A few bound copies of the three numbers for sale 
at $3.00. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




013 705 012 2 § 



